


SAVE Usurped

by SmashQ



Series: It Came from Tumblr [7]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Present Tense, downer ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 03:36:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11119092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmashQ/pseuds/SmashQ
Summary: Reset, SAVE, and Load powers only occurred in determined humans who came into contact with the magic in the Underground. Now, post-pacifist, Frisk’s powers have been take up by someone else. So much for freedom. One-shot.





	SAVE Usurped

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Time Marches Forward (Finally)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5165435) by [tsukithewolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsukithewolf/pseuds/tsukithewolf). 



> Thanks to Zetsuyout for his input on some of Pap’s dialogue.

Blink awake. Flashing images, memories, faded but true, wink out of his mind. Scraps of a future undone and faint impressions of what should be, but are not, remain.

Breathe in. Breathe out. He had no lungs, but the action provided a steady rhythm to focus on amidst the clanging and laughter drifting from the kitchen.

Legs hanging over a couch arm. Catch the quiet exhale from the other side.

It’s familiar - comforting - loathed - a connection.

Light streams through frosty windows. In a little while, it will be directly over his eyesockets if he does not move. For now, however, he focuses and idly listens to the tell-tale clacking of plates and scrapes of utensils.

Papyrus would be finishing plating up the spaghetti (“SANS! FRISK! BREAKFAST HAS BEEN PREPARED!”) and be on his case in 3 -

2 -

1 -

“SANS! HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU TO PICK UP YOUR SOCK??”

The reply comes so easily. Almost rehearsed. “ulna time, bro.”

“I-” A sudden silence. He can practically feel his brother sending him a deadpan stare from across the room. After a verbal sigh, Papyrus starts again. “IT HAS BEEN FIVE DAYS.”

“yep,” he agrees.

“I AM NOT PICKING UP AFTER YOU.” Still unamused. Still priceless.

“okay.”

“TAKE IT TO YOUR ROOM AFTER BREAKFAST. AND DON’T BRING IT BACK DOWN!!” Ah, a loophole closes, but another one opens. He can figure out where to leave it later.

“okay.”

“GREAT!” Papyrus’ boots move quickly across the carpet. He leans over from the behind the couch, exuberant, smiling, reliable. “NOW IT IS TIME FOR THE MOST IMPORTANT MEAL OF THE DAY!”

“Spaghetti?” asks a groggy voice from the cocoon of covers. It’s pretty close to Sans’ head. The kid probably fell asleep in the same position as Sans did.

Papyrus smiles a little more. “NO!” he replies. “BREAKFAST, OF COURSE! MADE ALL THE MORE SPECIAL BY BEING SPAGHETTI!” He rests his fists on his hips. “GOOD MORNING, FRISK!” They mumble something in reply which doesn’t seem to be enough for Pap. With enough pep to wake the dead, he proudly says, “IT’S TIME TO RISE AND SHINE LIKE OUR FRIEND THE SUN!! …EXCEPT FOR THE BLINDING LIGHT PART!”

Welp. The dominoes were set up. This was Sans’ cue. “sounds like today is going to…” he trails off purposefully. His brother sends an irritated glare his way.

“SANS…” Papyrus says cautiously. The warning is familiar and knowing.  

But ultimately futile.  

“…be de- _light_ -ful.”

“SANS!”

A half-hearted huff from his partner in time-related shenanigans, and Papyrus is throwing his arms in the air. Success.

“mornin’, kiddo,” he says. That sunlight is going to get annoying in a few minutes.

“Morning,” they say. A jaw-cracking yawn proceeds their greeting, ending in a tired groan.

Sans really, really wishes it was from a lack of sleep.

(But wishing, whether on wells or on stars, specks of light or stone, doesn’t work. Never has.)

Papyrus’ booming voice drowns out his thoughts. “THE FOOD OF CHAMPIONS AWAITS!!!” He spins and strikes a pose, legs bent, one arm stretched outwards while the other rests on his ribs. It’s looks like something one of the heroes in Alphys’ anime would pull off.

But Pap does it better. So cool.

Sans hears Frisk roll off the couch - quite literally - but they catch themselves half-way off the cushions, hand braced against the rug. They take the time to untangle themselves from the throw blanket and sluggishly make their way to the small dining table.

And then, his brother is spinning towards the kitchen, a flurry of activity, cheering about how nice the morning is and what Undyne has planned today and won’t it be terrific to watch Mettaton’s fireworks tonight?

Sans can’t help it. “so you’re saying…he’s going to _light up_ our lives?”

Papyrus makes a repressed noise of annoyance. “THAT’S IT!” he says. “I’M LEAVING NOW!” Pap briefly turns to the human, and says a little more calmly, “ENJOY, FRISK!!” And he’s NYEH HEH HEH-ing out the door before anyone can say a word.

Almost as soon as he’s gone, Frisk slumps in their seat, face barely missing the heap of spaghetti on their plate.

It’s awhile before the silence is broken.

“another one, huh?” Sans asks the ceiling.

The ceiling doesn’t deign him with a response.

“welp. time to get up i guess.”

Still nothing. Wow, what a rude ceiling.

“on the count of eight?”

The ceiling is a poor conversationalist.

“ ‘cause you haven’t yet.”

But it’s not as if he’s trying to engage it. Not on purpose, anyway.

“c'mon, frisk. throw me a bone here.”

Not even a chuckle. But, Sans is patient, and he lies there listening to the faint buzzing of electricity from the lights.

He’s almost asleep again when he hears it. The words are quiet, but audible.

“I’m tired,” admits Frisk.

He stops breathing.

This isn’t supposed to happen. Frisk had been through the Underground countless times. He wasn’t sure why they reset in the first place, and neither did they. Not anymore.

Their determination was ironclad; an unstoppable force. It was strong enough, Frisk had told him, to bring their SOUL back together when they should have been dead.

But, the world outside the Underground was so much bigger, filled with opportunities and mysteries and millions of people - millions of determined SOULs - to meet, befriend, hate, kill, love, marry, betray, and manipulate. The world was ever-changing, yet the same as ever. Rarely did it change enough to effect their daily lives from the norm though.

Norm. Hilarious. It wasn’t, really, but that’s what made it funny. Chaos was funny. Repetition was funny. It kept being humorous until it wasn’t, then looped right back around to funny again.

The kid isn’t there yet. They would be, one day. ~~Maybe. Probably. Please don’t give up.~~ Just not today.

Sans draws in a breath. Gathers a little energy and pushes himself up. He doesn’t want to make an effort today, but for the few people in life he cherishes, he’ll deal with it.

He gets off the couch and shuffles over to his friend. “hey,” he says. “i know it might not mean a whole lot right now, but… i think you can get your power back. one day.” He shrugs, fiddling with a couple ketchup packets in his coat pocket. “you’ll find the strength to take it back from the mayor.” He gives the window by the door a glance. “or is it mountain climber this time?” Frisk raises their head, blinking baggy eyes at him. Jeez. Just how much do they remember?

(He has an idea, but refuses to chase it. For now.)

He holds out a hand, and closes an eyesocket. “howzabout we head over to grillby’s? we can keep papyrus’ latest masterpiece for later.” Frisk stares at him, probably judging how much they’d want to be in a friendly, albeit crowded, place. Then, slowly, they nod their head, lift a hand, and place it in his.

In between seconds, they disappear.

**Author's Note:**

> “What’s with the breathing thing?” [Here’s your answer.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5165435/chapters/11953802)


End file.
